VANIMA
by Astroeal
Summary: Alakdaliel is the princess of the elven city, Archwood. When her parents are brutaly murdered, and her city destroyed, can the neighborig city of Mirkwood help? Perhaps a certain prince can capture her heart in the process.....
1. Default Chapter

May have some Mary-Sue. If you don't like it, save me the honor of your flames!!! Thanks! Also, I've taken the liberty of inventing a few characters...to say the least. So if you see any names you do not recognize...you know why.  
  
  
  
A Time of Need  
  
  
Alakdaliel brushed a weary hand over her forehead, attempting to rid herself of the heat that had plastered itself to her. Naturally, she loved the forest. The evergreen trees whispering to her as she idly walked along, and the flowers blowing their sent made it a lovely and welcoming place. But as soon as summer had set in, the flowers began to wilt from the heavy heat, and even Alakdaliel had to summon her strength to keep her back in posture.   
  
A daughter to the Great King Imrahial of Archwood, Alakdaliel never lacked in luxury, or even love. But the forests gave her what her parents could not. They gave her freedom. And she treasured it with every ounce of honor she held in her being.   
  
Sitting down against the trunk of a tall Oak, she closed her eyes. No older than sixteen winters, Alakdaliel was just approaching womanhood, and some still recognized her as a child. But their eyes betrayed them. She was truly blossoming into a princess, harboring her own desires until times like these, were she could go about as she pleased.   
  
Looking up into the leaves of the Oak, she sighed.   
"You know how I feel, don't you?" She said, wiping a strand of hair out of her eyes. The Great Oak stirred.  
  
"Indeed dear, I do. You forget, I too am rooted to my spot." Although expecting an answer, Alakdaliel had never realized how little the trees had to themselves, sharing everything around them.   
  
"'Tis true, but you are free of the duties of court and idle talkings of suitors who wish no more than the crown. Archwood is too quiet a place. Full of warriors we are, and brimming to the top with honorable hero's told in storybooks for our children' children, but for what? The Golden Wood and Mirkwood are where I wish to go. Though, I dread leaving my parents..."   
  
"You are but young, and should not catch a fever over such things. My branches are long, for I hear a Songbird yet for you. Wait and you will find what you wish. Summon what you wish, and you will have nothing." The Oak again whispered to her. The Oak's were known for their wisdom, and had succeeded in making Alakdaliel feel better.   
  
"I thank you for your words of wisdom, Great Oak" Alakdaliel replied, honestly. Closing her eyes and again leaning her head against the trunk of the Oak, a content smile played across her lips. 'By the Valar, let my wish be known to me, for I have no clue as to what my heart desires.'  
  
Before she could finish her prayer, a blood-curdling scream cut through the summer air, followed by dozens more. Turning in the direction of the city, Alakdaliel's eyes widened. A dark cloud had descended over head as masked shadows poured in. Orcs.   
  
Grabbing her blue skirts and tucking her golden hair behind her pointed ears, Alakdaliel sprinted toward the city, aware only of the tortured cries coming from her people's homes. Dodging flying weapons, and using her agile speed, she found herself at the gate of the palace, blood scattered along the tile floor. A feeling of dread overwhelmed her.   
  
Running up the spiral stairs from the Great Hall and into the throne room, Alakdaliel was met with a scene of horror.   
  
" Ammë! Atar! Do not leave me now!" Climbing over heaps of dead bodies, Alakdaliel flung herself onto the dying bodies of her parents. Uncontrollable tears ran down her face. Letting out a scream of rage, she hit the ground with her hand.   
  
"Where are Archwood's mighty warriors now! Where are the hero's we have honored for centuries!" Looking around desperately to no avail, Alakdaliel clung to the robes of the King, crying out to the Valar. She knew in the depths of her mind they were dead, but refused to accept it.   
  
A distant figure was walking to the palace, and as it approached Alakdaliel recognized it as an elf.   
  
"vëaner! Over here! Help me!" The figure, now spotting her, raised itself from its slumped position and ran quickly to the thrown room  
  
"ohtacar! My king!" Throwing himself on to the floor, he placed his ear to the chest. "His heart does not beat. I am sorry, My Princess." He looked up at her gravely.   
  
Knowing she would not cry in front of another being, Alakdaliel composed herself. Blinking her eyes rapidly to rid herself of the previous tears, she sat up straight.   
  
"You are a General, are you not?" She asked.  
  
"'Tis true. I am what you say." The man replied.   
  
"Well than General" Alakdaliel began in the most regal and commanding tone she owned " What is the status of Archwood? Why were my people attacked? And why were we not able to...suppress them?" She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice.   
  
"Your Highness, we tried. We truly did. Though, we were not prepared for an attack of such magnitude. There were thousands of Orcs. We had not enough forces to hold the back. I do not know why we were attacked, My Lady, nor do I think I ever will. As to the status of Archwood? Most are dead. I fear there are no more than three dozen left." He trailed off, letting the full of it hit him.  
  
"Archwood is gone." Alakdaliel whispered to herself.   
  
"Nay lady, not gone, for you still breathe. I trust in you. Rise above!" With those empowering words, Alakdaliel summoned the courage she needed to stand.   
  
"I trust in you to find the first survivor and send him to our nearest neighboring city, Mirkwood. Tell the King to come quickly, at the call of Princess Alakdaliel of Archwood. Tell him it is urgent, and I will be ever at his expense." She turned, but stopped her self.   
  
"And general?" She asked, her voice barely audible.   
  
"Yes, My Lady?"   
  
"Find the dead a proper burial."  
  
"As you wish."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Not done yet! Legolas soon to come. Please review! 


	2. When Majesties meet

Next chapter's up! Enjoy to all you loyal reviewers!  
  
  
  
A Time in Need  
  
Chapter 2  
  
  
  
  
  
It had been a week since the savage killing in Archwood, yet it still seemed as if it were yesterday. The few that were left were helping bury the deceased, most of which were decaying around the palace. There were too few hands to bury all of them quickly enough. Of course, the King and Queen were the first to be mounted into the ground, their tomb stones marked with the craftsmanship of an elf. It had been the wish of the survivors to put them to sea, but it could not be done, for they were leagues away.  
  
Alakdaliel pushed the tip of her shovel into the ground, groaning with the effort. She had not rested, no did she intend to until everything was taken care of. Which, was going at the slowest pace possible.  
  
The messenger that the General had found had not returned to Archwood as of yet, therefor it was still deprived of the help that it desperately needed. Though, the General had been Archwood's savior, doing everything possible to see it's succession while waiting for the King of Mirkwood to arrive. The princess and him had become close friends, though there was always a shadow hanging over whence the spoke, reminding them of their first meeting over the dead Royal's bodies.  
  
"'Tis a strong lady who can wield such a weight, and yet pull up more with it. Perhaps you should rest princess, and let a man do this tideous work?" General Rayon said, strolling toward her with his own shovel in hand. "I would you not over exert yourself."  
  
Pulling her chin up, and straightening into perfect posture that hours of lessons had taught her, Alakdaliel glared at him.  
  
"'Tis a brave man who would insult a princess as such, General. I can work just as hard as you, and I will not see my kingdom fall once more because of lack of labor on my part."  
  
"Milady, I had no intention of insulting you. But you do have land to run, and other things to see to." He replied, almost challenging her with his stare.  
  
"Enough. Leave me be Sir Rayon, for I have work to do." She shrugged her shoulders and turned back to her shovel, but not before catching the small smile playing on the General's lips.  
  
"As you wish." He stated. Alakdaliel's patience had run thin, and her temper had never been one to play with, princess or not.  
  
"Do you find something amusing? Or do I have to personally see to your duties? I knew you were immature, but surly I do not have to lean over your shoulder to make sure you get your work done, good sir? Perhaps you are not a man such as I thought?" She left her statement lingering in the air.  
  
"Nay, Lady. But I thought you should know, the messenger has returned." Alakdaliel turned around sharply, to be met with the General's hope brimmed eyes.  
  
She had been waiting for Mirkwood's reply for days, and now it seemed somewhat of a miracle.  
  
"and?" She asked, keeping her emotions hidden.  
  
General Rayon pointed to the line of horses approaching the palace gates. Alakdaliel's eyes widened in surprise. Bringing a hand to her mouth, she gasped.  
  
"So soon they arrive? I have no time to change…to present myself properly. They will think Archwood---  
  
She was cut off by the general's gentle hand, halting her words.  
  
"A place in need. Milady, you have nothing to fear of these men. They are our allies. Mirkwood is our brother, before even Sauron had gained any power. So you see, a dirtied elf maiden cannot break centuries worth of brotherhood."  
  
Sighing, Alakdaliel looked down at her mud-scattered clothes, and her almost black hands. Her face was covered in layers of dirt, probably streaked with tearstains from the nights of silent crying. She had had no time to wash, or even change for that matter. The past week was spent working outside, burying loved ones, wishing, in the depths of there minds for the sea to take them in their death.  
  
Her dress was a light shade of blue, or what you could see of it behind the dirt. Though, the only part of her untouched seemed to be her wisps of golden hair, reaching to the middle of her back. Beautiful they were, curling slightly as if the rays of the sun.  
  
General Rayon took her arm, walking to the center of the palace to greet the impending visitors. The scattered bodies however, did not make for a good first impression. As they appeared closer, the messenger in the lead, their faces became more clearer, their graveness shinning through.  
  
Before one could even dismount, Alakdaliel's resolve shattered. Running to her Father's long time friend, she threw herself at him as he wrapped his large arms around her tiny frame, her sobs echoing in an out of control manner. Before she could stop herself, she began to tell him of the past two weeks.  
  
  
  
"Oh, King Thranduil! The Orcs came so fast! I did not know what to do! Our warriors tried, but we were not prepared. Everyone was screaming. I ran as fast I could. Everyone was dead…The throne room …they were lying there. I knew not what to do! Still I don't. Mirkwood---  
  
"My lady" The king pressed his finger to her mouth, and wiping some of the falling tears from her grief stricken face. "your messanger has informed us of the details. Fear not, we will figure out what to do. You have done the right thing in calling for the aid of Mirkwood. 'Tis a courageous woman who can see the horrors of that day, yet live to tell the tale."  
  
Looking down, Alakdaliel felt the beginnings of a blush form on her cheeks. She sounded like a fool. No one understood a word she said. She couldn't behave properly in front of a king, non-the less run a kingdom! Stepping forward, General Rayon spoke.  
  
" Perhaps while the princess changes, I can escort you to the throne room. It is one of the few rooms totally cleaned. Do we have your leave princess?"  
  
"Of course"  
  
Alakdaliel smiled gratefully, bowed to the king and had just enough self control left not to run to her chambers. She would, after all make herself presentable. General Rayon truly was a gentlemen.  
  
An hour later  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Alakdaliel wore a red velvet dress, brocaded in silver leaves around the hem. Her neck line was anything but modest, and could make any man blush. Her golden curls fell gracefully along her back, two sides held back by a singe piece of a silver star.  
  
Gently making her way the throne room, she stopped at the door. Six men were seated around the throne room's table, deep in conversation. General Rayon, one with the keenest of hearing, did not even look up when she entered the room, for all six were invoked in the discussion. Nearing the chair saved for her at the head of the table, opposite King Thranduil, all heads turned to her, finally aware of her presence.  
  
Rising from their seats to give proper respect, each one in turn came forward to present them selves to he princess. The first four were the Kings guard, each bowing deeply. She returned with a tilt of her head and a small smile.  
  
The next was a man she could only describe as beautiful. His hair was strait and long, bright as the sun. He was thin, but had well defined muscles. His eyes were bluer than those of any she had ever seen before. He did not wear the pendent of a royal guard.  
  
A small smile danced across his lips. Taking her hand in his, he brought it gently too his lips, placing a whipser of a kiss upon her hand.  
  
"I am Legolas Son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood." With that, he went back to his seat.  
  
Shaking her head, she sat down in her seat, acknowledging the King across from her. Before she could say a word, General Rayon spoke, after clearing his throat.  
  
"Your Highness, we were just discussing Archwood's current situation. His Majesty has suggested Archwood find other residence, being as how it has brought us nothing other than destruction. There are only thirty odd of us left, therefore it would not be hard to move. He has offered his home of Mirkwood for us to take residence of."  
  
Alakdaliel frowned, finding the thought of leaving the home she had known all of her life disturbing.  
  
"Although this offer is very kind, there are other factors that should be taken into consideration." Alakdaliel paused before continuing. "Though, I find it hard to speak against such a decision. There is no Archwood left here, and any one to say differently just has to open their eyes a little more. I will consent."  
  
The King smiled, warming Alakdaliel.  
  
"Very well, my dear. You and your people will be safe in Mirkwood. I would like to leave in the morn, for I have left a whole kingdom by itself. General, round up the rest of the survivors in Archwood. Pack all belongings. Now, my highness, if you will take my leave, I would like to get some rest. It has been a long day."  
  
"Of course, Your Majesty" Alakdaliel replied. The guards followed him out.  
  
Rising from his chair, Legolas walked gracefully to Alakdaliel.  
  
"I wish to bid you goodnight, Milady, for 'tis not everyday a beauty such as yourself is cast before me. Will you allow me to escort you to your room?" It was an offer she could not refuse. Waving a silent good night to The General, she gave Legolas her arm.  
  
Reaching the door to her chamber, she gave a deep bow.  
  
"Thank you, Your Highness." She said. He looked at her gravely.  
  
"I shall see you tomorrow, Alakdaliel of Mirkwood."  
  
  
  
  
  
REVIEWWWWWWW! 


	3. Teach Me

Sorry I took so long on the next chapter!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
VANIMA  
  
  
  
Teach Me  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The few belongings that could be salvaged from the attack that had taken place in less than three weeks time were compacted into one tiny compartment, easily handled by three strong men. The invaders had taken all they could find, or torn what they found useless to shreds, leaving the survivors with nothing more than one or two articles to bring along on the tideous journey to Mirkwood.  
  
  
  
Though only one sunset stood in the way of their arrival, spirits had begun to lower, allowing the citizens to dwell on the homes they were leaving behind, along with everything familiar they had come to know. The only thing that seemed to brighten their faces was the song of an Elf. Many would take turns singing the songs out triumphantly, echoing off the surrounding trees, and drifting to ones ear gracefully, with a soft melody. Even now it swam through the approaching night air, though the owner was left unknown.  
  
Alakdaliel could not deny the song was beautiful, but why torture her people with the words of love and wisdom when there seemed to be so little of it in the world? Surely if there had been some present in Archwood the killings would have gone undone. In the past few days, her bitterness toward her home had grown, finding underlying hatred toward the place she had lived all her life. He eyes had grown cold, and her once carefree nature was replaced by a commanding stance, intimidating those around her. Now that her Father and Mother were…not there, she would be held responsible to carrying Archwood's honor in the great city of Mirkwood. Though the feeling that her small demeanor would be a slight problem never left the back of her mind.  
  
They had been traveling for almost a week, and although they had almost reached the city, it seemed that they hadn't even begun the journey. Her mind had wandered so vastly that the time passed seemed very little in the world she had created around herself. Talking to almost no one was quite easy, she found. Keep your eyes sharp, back straight, and keep at the back of the slowly moving crowd, and you would go unnoticed, royalty or not. And that is what she had done, trying to process what had occurred so quickly that had taken away everything she had loved.  
  
Alakdaliel's thoughts drifted back to her last night spent at Archwood. She recalled Legolas escorting her back to her chambers silently. He had placed a kiss upon her hand and…what had he done? Surely nothing inappropriate, for it would never had left her mind so quickly, and he would never have left unbruised. He had wished her good night. Good night…though not to her. To Alakdaliel, yes. But not to Alakdaliel of Archwood. He had wished a goodnight to Alakdaliel of Mirkwood. Perhaps he had mistaken her for another maiden in his homeland? Shaking her head, she instantly dismissed the ridiculous thought. Of course he had not, though his motives were unclear. Though, when he said it, it did have a nice sound, rolling of the tip of the tongue, and catching to ones ear. But now was not the time to think of mere titles.  
  
Peering just over the forest greenery, Alakdaliel spotted a growing piece of stone, now much larger than the average boulder. Approaching the crest of the hill she was mounting, the rock came into clear view, revealing its true identity. What she had seen was part of the welcoming gates of Mirkwood, intricately carved with the previous rulers, engraved with the care only and elf could provide. It was beautiful, though much unlike the ruined home she had left behind. Surrounded in dense woods, the birds chirped and the trees sang, not at all what Alakdaliel had expected. Accepting what had been placed before her as of yet, she continued silently, knowing full well that others would want to experience the full magnitude of their new home without her disturbance.  
  
Pulling her gaze away from the newfound city, she rested her eyes on something else. A handsome, bright haired elf. Though, she was surprised to find the gaze returned with unblinkingly blue eyes, unmoving. Quickly adverting her eyes, she looked around, blushing slightly. Why did she have to act so childish now? And where had General Raion gone? If he had gotten himself los-  
  
Her train of thought was once again interrupted, though this time by a strong hand grasping her forearm. Turning to find its owner, she found herself face to face than no one other than the Prince of Mirkwood. Stepping back with surprise, he had shocked her with his speed. No elf could cover that much distance in the blink of an eye…could they? He let go of her arm, though did not leave her presence.  
  
  
  
"Why do you insist on secluding yourself so?" He asked, trying to catch her eyes, though she refused to look at him. Could he not see she wished to be left alone? Though the question was one she was not prepared to answer. Instead, she shifted the conversation.  
  
  
  
"Do you remember, years ago, I was but a small child, you had come to visit Archwood?" Her question was simple, but Legolas's eyes betrayed him, showing the somewhat shocked expression shinning bright in his eyes. Blinking to focus his attention, he nodded.  
  
  
  
"I do. You were no more than ten winters. I brought my bow and arrow, and you—" His response was cut off by Alakdaliel's voice.  
  
  
  
"I wished for you to teach me how to use it properly. Why did you not?" She tried to keep the resentment out of her words. A slight smile reached his lips.  
  
  
  
"A bow and arrow is hardly befitting a woman, especially one of ten." His smile lingered, and than faded, eyes realizing. "There was nothing you could have learned with your time spent with me that could have saved any lives that day, not your mother's, nor you father's. You know that as well as I." His voice was harsh, yet comforting, shaking her out of her state of dullness.  
  
  
  
"I know now is not the time to be asking for favors." Alakdaliel began.  
  
  
  
"Do not hesitate, I will do anything in my power." He gave her a reassuring grin.  
  
  
  
Her next words came out muffled, and a bit fast, based on the embarrassment that had already begun to show by the redness rising on her cheeks and spreading rapidly up her pointed ears.  
  
"Perhaps you could teach me know, being as how I am older, and we have more time to learn…properly" he smiled, bowed, almost mockingly, and strided to his first position at the front of the crowd. But not before shouting three simple words, with a slight bit of laughter resonating in his voice.  
  
"As you wish".  
  
  
  
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	4. As You Wish

VANIMA  
  
  
  
  
  
As You Wish  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"No! Your grip is too low. Place you fingers like this." Grabbing the bow from Alakdaliel with a sigh of frustration, Legolas rolled his eyes. Through out the past few days upon her arrival at Mirkwood, she had been settling into her new home. She preoccupied the time in which she had absolutely noting to do with the lessons Legolas had promised her. Though they were not exactly what she had anticipated.  
  
  
  
Legolas was nice enough, but he failed to realize that, although he had been fiddling with a bow since he was in a cradle, others, such as herself, had never touched one. Therefor, when her target remained untouched, he would groan and mutter to herself. She wasn't of course, incompetent, but did he truly expect her to master the art in three days? And the fact that his perfect aim and amazing speed with the bow and arrow were displayed to her everyday, didn't help her concentration in the least. The prince had been royally fondled for far too long, and although she herself was of noble blood, could teach him a lesson or two of common courtesy to those who were not inheriting the throne.  
  
  
  
"My fingers feel correct, and seem to fit quite nicely where they are. Perhaps you have been doing it wrong your whole life?" Alakdaliel asked, her eyebrows raising innocently. All right, she had been grasping at straws, but what more could she say? It was the only insult that had found its way to her mouth in such a short amount of time. He grinned, and backed away slowly.  
  
  
  
"As you wish." There it was again. The simple statement that had been repeated over and over again, everyday that Alakdaliel could remember. It had been well known throughout Archwood in previous years that the King and taunted her with the sentence every time she showed the least bit of greed or selfishness. Alakdaliel recalled not many years ago, when she had asked for her own garden within the palace walls. Knowing full well that she did not need, only she had desired one from an early age, she had requested it from her father, though Archwood had no money to spare on such things, and other cares to deal with. Her father had smiled, and relaxed in his throne, responding again with those three words. It had enraged the princess, and her guilt would always get the best of her, letting her wants go unanswered.  
  
  
  
The fact that Legolas knew of it was surprising. Had he remembered from his time spent at Archwood? Or had countrymen of her own told him? There was no doubt in Alakdaliel's mind that he knew the significance of the statement. The smile on his face reached from pointed ear to pointed ear, frustrating her even more.  
  
  
  
"If you were not the Prince you are, I would have a mind to speak to you about your manners, good sir." Alakdaliel said, though she could not keep the laughter from her voice.  
  
  
  
"Milady, if I were not the charming, irresistible, astonishingly handsome prince I was, than you, Alakdaliel, would have shoot yourself in the skull with an arrow by know, based on your aim."  
  
  
  
She did not know how to respond to that, for it was well true. Focusing her attention on the target in the distance, she stretched the head back, mounted her arrow, and took aim. Letting go, the arrow sliced through the afternoon air, hitting the center of the target perfectly. Though it was luck, Alakdaliel did not stop a grin from her face. Turning to face Legolas, eyes full of triumphant, she prepared herself for a full apology from the Prince. But she stopped dead on her heal, seeing that the two were not alone anymore.  
  
  
  
A man had entered the shooting grounds, and now stood beside Legolas, a slight sarcastic smile across his face. He had dark eyes, and even darker hair, though his skin was pale as the moon, rippling with muscles. The effect was overall astounding, giving him wolf-like characteristics.  
  
  
  
"Forgive me" The man apologized. " I did not mean to startle you. Princess, I am Daren, Royal Guard of the throne of Mirkwood." He licked his lips before continuing. " I see young Legolas has been teaching you the skill of Archery." His eyes sparkled with menace, but Alakdaliel couldn't shake the feeling of friendship he had awakened in her. She curtseyed with the proper respect.  
  
  
  
"She has not quite mastered it yet." Legolas said, amusement weaved in his voice, noting the numerous scrapes along her forearm from where she had released the arrow incorrectly.  
  
  
  
"No doubt" Daren said seriously, his voice sallow and deep. "Fighting is a man's job". He glared at Alakdaliel, his gaze starting at her eyes, and slowly working its way down to her feet. She shifted under so hot a glare. The man had no respect! Though she was too shocked and mortified to say anything. Legolas face reddened with anger, and it took him no time to voice it.  
  
  
  
"Daren! You will do well in the future to show more courtesy to Her Highness. I've always thought highly of you, and I am ashamed you have acted so inappropriately. I will accept you have caught a fever, and nothing more. Perhaps you need to rest. Do not make me repeat myself." Legolas' eyes never left Daren's, and for a moment, it looked like a fight would break out, the tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. A fake smile was then plastered on Daren's face, eyes still focused unmoving on Legolas.  
  
  
  
"Please accept my most sincere apologies, Milady. I do not know what came over me." Without a second glance, Daren turned on his heel and stormed off the grounds, toward the palace. Legolas, still fuming, watched him depart, than placed his attention back on Alakdaliel.  
  
  
  
"Alakdaliel, I apologize. He is not like that, I have known him since he was a child. He is like a brother to me. I am sure there is a logical excuse. Do not think all of Mirkwood is like---  
  
  
  
Alakdaliel silenced him by clearing her throat.  
  
  
  
"I know. Let's get back to work."  
  
  
  
  
  
* * * *  
  
  
  
Daren climbed the steps to the palace, anger resonating off his form, obvious to all that passed him. The Princess of Archwood dared to take up residence in Mirkwood, and than proceeds to learn how to fight! She had absolutely no decency. With the Prince instructing her, he had no time for other duties involving the Royal Guard, causeing Daren's plans to foil before his very eyes. There was no way he could kill His Highness without dragging him away from Alakdaliel, too obvious a factor. He would have to kill the princess first, but that could only be done by taking her away from the Prince's keen eyesight and excellent hearing. He would have to do it with a distraction. Something his co-partner would be more than happy to provide…  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
REIVEWWWWWWWW! I hate to beg…but desperate times call for desperate measures! 


	5. The Feast

The Feast  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"I've been here for almost a month, yet Mirkwood still insists on a Welcoming Feast? Although it is extremely kind, and very thoughtful, it is quite belated…and honestly, I have no intention of prancing around like a fool in a gown, am I making myself clear?" Alakdaliel's stance was regal and demanding, not one most would care to dabble with, but the woman before her paid no head to what she had said.  
  
"You are quite clear, but you will go to the feast. And although you have every intention on sulking in your room like a half-wit, I, on the other hand, have every intention on dragging you along with me. I will not see you mope about in your room everytime a celebration is held. Why do you insist on secluding yourself so?"  
  
  
  
"I do not seclude myself." Alakdaliel tried desperately to keep the wine out of her voice, and the pout off her face. Somehow Chariste always managed to make her feel lower in her presence. Though a mere noble, and far from a royal status, Chariste had the ability to force Alakdaliel to abide to her. And, as much as Alakdaliel hated to admit it, she admired her for it. For years the Princess had been trying to do the same thing to her subjects, but all she received were sullen looks.  
  
  
  
Giving Chariste a patronizing look, she let a grin reach her face as she saw Alakdaliel give in. "Very well then. I will be by in an hour. I suggest you wear something…more suitable than that piece of rag you are wearing. Perhaps…" Chariste made her way to the beau, searching with arms frailing like a wild cat. Suddenly her head shot up sharply, her eyes gleaming. Spinning to meet Alakdaliel's quite fearful gaze, a mischievous smirk swallowed her face. "This will do." And without another word, she walked out of the room, shoulders high, and back straight.  
  
  
  
"Fine then!" Alakdaliel's voice was cut off by the slam of the door, echoing through out her empty chambers. Sighing, she fell onto the bed, her back bouncing slightly from the cushion. It had been almost two new moons since Archwood's citizens had arrived at Mirkwood, but still she felt no more welcome than a dwarf would be. Of course she had been treated with the utmost respect, one that only a royal such as herself would receive. But something was missing. She was given no welcoming smiles, no kind words. In fact, none other than palace officials talked to her, and few would make eye contact. Did she really look so intimidating? Why were people afraid of her so?  
  
  
  
Glancing at herself in the mirror, she surveyed her image. It seemed more innocent than freighting. Her blue eyes shimmering with light, something that had not been there in the previous weeks. Her extremely long eyelashes protruded outward, rounding her eyes, similar to the moon. Her long golden hair reached to the mid of her back, slightly curled. She was short, even by men's standards. Reaching no more than five feet, she never looked down to an elf. Her height made her vulnerable, but her stance made up for it. Yet, why could no one approach her? She would make an effort tonight to be more…welcoming.  
  
  
  
Standing up from the bed, she held up the gown Chariste had picked. Her eyes widening with surprise, Alakdaliel shook her head. She could not wear this in public! The dress was full length, a shocking red with small diamond studs broached around the hem. Though it was beautiful, it was anything but modest. The neckline was cut low…well more than low. It looked as if a weight was dragging it downward…and downward, and downward. Knowing she could not refuse Chariste's…request, Alakdaliel began to dress, pulling on the tight fitting gown.  
  
  
  
After she had the dress thoroughly tied on, and she found some breathing room (something that proved to be very difficult) she combed through her hair. Deciding she would leave it down, she tied two small braids at the sides of her head, wrapping it around to the back, creating a crown affect. Tying bits of red petals through out the top, the perfume reached her nose, smelling of roses and wildlife. There was only one thing left to do. Go to the feast.  
  
* * * 30 minutes later * * *  
  
  
  
  
  
A knock at the door interrupted Alakdaliel's thoughts. "Who's there?" She called, wondering who had come to visit her.  
  
  
  
"Chariste. Open your door." Came a soft, though demanding voice.  
  
"What could this be?" Alakdaliel questioned, a smile slowly spreading across her lips. "Did you learn some manners, and did you just…." She let out a shocked breath. "Did you just knock at my door? Surely it is someone else. I do not recall a maiden who carries your name so polite."  
  
"Do not folly words with me, Alakdaliel. The feast is already begun. Let us be going." Sighing, she opened the door and made her way down the stairs, toward the Great Hall.  
  
"I don't suppose there's any turning back now?" Alakdaliel said, trying to bring humor to the heavy atmosphere. Chariste looked solemn and serious.  
  
"None whatsoever. Hold up your gown, or it will tear." Alakdaliel furrowed her eyebrows. She had never seen Chariste so grim before. Her grave eyes never left the space in front of her, but her thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. Reaching the door, Alakdaliel shook her head, dismissing the dark thoughts.  
  
  
  
The feast was astounding. Lights hung around the marble pillars, swinging in the slight breeze that was rafting about so high. Flutes played lively music in a secluded corner, where elves danced with grace, delight weighing heavily on them. The tables were extravagant. Food was piled high at the centers, elves already eyeing them lustfully. Separating herself from Chariste, Alakdaliel made her way to her seat at the royal table. With a welcoming toast, and an ear shattering cheer, the feast began. Full of joy and happiness, Alakdaliel never felt so carefree. Though she felt the absence of her mother and father at her side, she was filled with the presence of others around her.  
  
  
  
Looking around for Chariste, who was nowhere to be seen, Alakdaliel was startled when a hand was placed on her shoulder. Twisting in her chair, she saw Daren, smiling down at her, laughter resonating in his features.  
  
  
  
"Milady, I have not the ability to take my eyes off you. Perhaps you would do me the pleasure of a dance?" Taking his outstretched hand, she rose from her chair.  
  
"How can I refuse such a kind offer, My Lord?" Her grinned at her and the two walked on to the dance floor. The music had slowed, so they started into a leisurely waltz. When the music stopped, she curtseyed and he returned it with a bow.  
  
  
  
" I thank you, Princess. You have made this feast one I shan't forget." With that he turned on his heel, lost into the crowd. Before she could return to her seat, another hand reached her arm.  
  
  
  
"Lady, I've been searching for a dance. Perhaps you could assist me?" It was Prince Legolas of Mirkwood. His eyes shown bright with mischief. Taking his hand, she grinned.  
  
"I will try, My Prince, but I have been known for having two right feet." Alakdaliel shifted her weight.  
  
"Not to worry, Lady. Follow me." Doing as she was told, the reached the middle of the dance floor. The music began again, and the two lost themselves in the sea of elves. The song was fast and heavy, requiring strong steps and harsh movements. Closing her eyes, she followed Legolas, unaware of her surroundings.  
  
  
  
"How fares your stay in Mirkwood?" His voice was serious. Opening her eyes, she was surprised to find them whirling around the room. Legolas danced with speed and agility. Catching her breath, she swallowed deeply.  
  
  
  
"Well. I am enjoying it." She wished not to talk about such matters, and Legolas did not press it. Spinning her around on his arm, she laughed.  
  
"You like this dance, Lady?" His eyes were innocent, but suggested he knew more.  
  
  
  
"Very much so, My Lord. You are a wonderful dancer." She replied.  
  
  
  
"As are you. It seems to me you have the right amount of feet to me…" He glanced down at her toes. She laughed again, amazed at how carefree the Prince could be. "You are doing well with the bow".  
  
  
  
"I would hope so. With the fabled Prince of Mirkwood instructing me it could not be anything but." This time it was his turn to laugh.  
  
  
  
"'Tis true." His eyes shifted gears quickly, however, focusing on Daren at the corner of the room. "I was surprised to see you dancing with him. I thought you would have held a grudge against his…recent behavior." He turned back to her.  
  
  
  
"Nay, I am a forgiving person. It was you that dubbed him ill, was it not?" He nodded his head. The beat of the music sped up, the dance becoming more seductive. Swallowing deeply, Alakdaliel forced herself to remain focused on the steps, rather than the vivid movements of her partner. Her blood was boiling. It was at that point that Alakdaliel noticed the servere difference of height between the two. He was foot and a half taller than her. She barley reached his broad shoulders. Tightening her grip on his arm, she felt him shiver. Did he feel the beat of the song swaying his emotions also?  
  
  
  
Abruptly the music stopped. Daren was at the head of the Hall, ready to make an announcement. Breaking apart from each other, the two swallowed hard.  
  
  
  
"On behalf of the royal guard, I would like to challenge all who enlist to a duel, the reward being a kiss from the Fair Princess of Archwood. Does the Lady consent?" He gave her a deadly smile.  
  
  
  
Feeling her face go red, Alakdaliel gave a barley visible nod, the flush crawling up her ears.  
  
  
  
"Let the games begin!"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
REVIEWWWWW!! I know, a lot of dialogue in this chapter. I have some great ideas for upcoming parts….but PLEASE review! 


	6. Dueling and a Prize

Daren swung his sword outward, countering his opponent's move. The two fought in the middle of the Great Hall, all eyes centered on the duel. Most refused to challenge the head of the Royal Guard. After all, who in their right mind would dare to battle against their own Captain? But there were a few, though only enough to be counted on one hand, which agreed to such an atrocity. Daren had all but killed the three that had already confronted him, and the fourth looked to be doing no better. They grunted and heaved, but in the end, Daren had won, swinging his sword high. And that is what he did. A move so quick, Alakdaliel could barley catch it, Daren thrust his sword forward, catching and nicking the arm of the officer before him. Falling to the ground with a cry, he dropped his sword.  
  
  
  
"My Captain, I should have known it was folly to affray one so mighty." Bowing his head he proceeded back to his seat, sweat laying heavily on his forehead.  
  
  
  
"Anymore volunteers?" Daren's face was triumphant, marked with pride and, what looked to be the beginning of greed. "Shall I claim my prize now?" He turned toward Alakdaliel, grinning wickedly.  
  
  
  
Alakdaliel felt a wave of disgust run through her veins, chilling her. She felt as if she was going to heave on the floor, so sick with hatred. She was nothing more than a prize, an object of affection that one could claim. Who next was up that could gamble her emotions so easily, careless of her own will? A feeling of loath spread quickly throughout Alakdaliel. She wanted to reach Daren and hit him. She wanted to scream, to frail, to punch him, but her small frame would not allow such a procedure. She would have to sit there and endure it. Sit there and watch her feelings be wagered with. Clenching her fists, she turned away from his face, unsure if she could hold in her abhorrence much longer. Focusing her attention on her feet, she refused to look back up at him.  
  
  
  
"I will fight you." The voice was harsh yet gratifying, full of confidence. Alakdaliel looked up to find Legolas eyeing Daren with determination, but something else was hidden in his eyes…disbelief. Of course! He had looked up to Daren with admiration all his life. What prince wouldn't do so with the captain of their Royal Guard? His eyes clouded over with a deadly stare, concentrated solely on Daren.  
  
  
  
"My Prince, 'tis my pleasure. Let it be known to all whom watch that when I defeat thee, I do it out of love for Mirkwood. For I would never strike my own Prince." Daren's voice dripped with venom, his eyes mirroring it.  
  
  
  
"It is understood. Alas, when I defeat thee, it is out of hatred for those who defy a maiden's right." And with that, the two lunged at one another, swords slashing with agility and strength. It seemed that Daren had found his match, a far different approach than the weaklings that he had fought prior to the prince.  
  
  
  
Alakdaliel could feel her heart pounding anxiously inside her chest at every movement. She cringed each time the sword came astoundingly close to extremity. The crowd's breath was held, anxiety squeezing its lungs. The King, seated at the throne clenched and unclenched his hands, knuckles growing white, though cheering on his son.  
  
  
  
In one swift movement, Legolas was standing over Daren, sword pointed at his chest.  
  
  
  
"Perhaps your love for Mirkwood is not as strong as I imagined. I suppose all Captains have their…weak points." And with a growl from Daren, he neatly sliced the Captain's chin, receiving a lethal glare. Legolas walked out of the Dueling Circle, but not before a small boy ran up and tugged on his leg, a smile across his broad cheeks.  
  
  
  
"Prince Legolas! You have forgotten the most important part!" He tugged on the Prince's tunic, and a grinning Legolas bent down to his eye level. "You have forgotten your prize!"  
  
  
  
"I suppose your right." Legolas laughed. Standing up again, he patted the elven boy on his back, and he scattered back into the crowd.  
  
  
  
Alakdaliel cleared her throat, a smile rapidly taking over her features. "To which I would gladly grant, if His Highness agrees."  
  
  
  
"I most certainly do, Lady." Alakdaliel stood up, ambling to were Legolas stood, breathing heavy from his fight, though he was not sure it was that alone. Grasping onto his shoulders, Alakdaliel spoke loud enough for all to here.  
  
  
  
"You have done me a great honor tonight, My Lord. I have never met a better warrior. Let all Mirkwood know how cunning a prince they have in their midst." A tremendous cheer broke out in the crowd. Slowly, Alakdaliel moved her hands up to the Prince's neck, looking up into his eyes. Placing her lips on top of his, he gave a shudder. Aware they were in public, Alakdaliel broke away quickly. Curtseying politely, she gave a final grin, and departed from the stricken prince, standing there unmoving.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Review!!! Next chapter should have a little more of…how shall I put this? "Badness". Let's just say Alakdaliel has gotten herself into more trouble than you might imagine. Also, I plan on using a scene from WOT later on in this story if all goes well. Just want to let you know…should provide some…amusement. Thanks to all you loyal reviewers! 


	7. Follow The Dogwood

Follow The Dogwood  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Daren paced back and forth along the granite rocks. The cave was dark, and sparse silver beams of moonlight made it's way through to light his enraged face. The damp ground crawled with creatures, and if one sat still long enough they would slowly protrude up ones body. With a growl of anger, Daren slammed his fist against the sharp rocks, receiving nothing more than a loud echo resonating through out the small cavern. Turning to the woman beside him, he grimaced with pain, pulling his throbbing hand close to his chest.  
  
  
  
"I will kill them all!" His voice was barley audible, yet it had a finality to it, and his harsh words sliced through the stale air.  
  
  
  
"Of course you will, Master." Another voice sounded though no more than a whisper, void of any emotion.  
  
  
  
"I suppose you will be of no help, you mindless arc. You paid no head to me last night! Legolas was obviously the better fighter, yet you sat there like the pig you are! Why do I put up with you?" Daren growled, clenching and unclenching his fists.  
  
  
  
"I did not mean to upset you, Master. I swear it…" The small person shook with fear, wishing for forgiveness. Moving his hand to the speaker's cheek, Daren sighed.  
  
  
  
"Perhaps not, Chariste." His hands roamed her face, caressing her cheeks. "Although the raid at Archwood was unsuccessful, we will not be. Come." His voice was drowned out as he pressed his lips on to hers, driving her deeper into the lightness cave.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
* * * *  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Alakdaliel rubbed a weary hand across her eyes. Her restless night had brought her no sleep, and the moon still shown bright, nigh above. Taking a deep breath, she rose out of her bed, stretching her arms above her head. Placing a dark blue cloak around her shoulders, and pulling the hood over her face as to not attract any unwanted attention, she made her way out of the window, and towards the forest greenery below.  
  
  
  
It was not a usual routine for Alakdaliel. Normally, she was met with a deep slumber as soon as her head hit the pillow, but tonight she found herself climbing down palace walls and wandering forest grounds. The night air was stiff, and a slight breeze combed through her hair. Although it was refreshing, a sense of eireness had comfortably settled on her shoulders, and so heavy was the wait, that Alakdaliel could not cease the shivers of her spine. Pulling her hood further down, she shrank into her cloak.  
  
  
  
  
  
The trees shifted silently, moaning in the night air, their leaves shading any and all light that might have had the opportunity to find her. The evening was seemed unnatural; as if it had planned on depriving her of her much needed sleep, obscuring the peaceful image she had displayed in her mind of Mirkwood. The night was one of the darkest she had every met, yet she felt her eyes glaze, and her mind relax, the tenseness of her muscles slowly easing away. Her motions seemed not to be her own, controlled by some unknown source. The wind grew stronger, and for a moment, Alakdaliel felt as if she was going to be blow over, carried away by the strong gusts. Even the rhythmic beats of her very heart felt as if they were being forced and composed by another, squeezed and pumped with the force of a stampede. Her blood pounded in her ears, and the cool night air blazed against her hidden face. Gasping for breath that was not hers, Alakdaliel stopped her staggered steps, clasping her chest. Even to draw oxygen was difficult, and every movement was more and more painful. Whisperings gathered in her ears, quickly increasing in volume till they were heard over the thumping of her blood.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Follow the Dogwood…" It seemed to be coming from right next to her, yet she could feel it echoing in the deep corridors of her mind. Denying the command, she attempted to step backward, tried to turn back towards the safety of her room, but a searing pain commenced through out Alakdaliel's body, her foot still unmoving. Before she could stop herself, the agony still burning dully on her uncontrolled limbs, her right leg moved, and than the left, continuing on the destined path.  
  
  
  
The forest grew darker, and the palace increasingly small. She could feel the danger protruding towards her, so close she was to its grasp. Her body still denying her the right to turn around, Alakdaliel shut her eyes, blackening the vision of danger that surely lurked ahead of her. Even as her eyelids closed, she felt a heavy hand grasp her shoulder, and a sharp object at her back. The arm detained her, holding her back, and the withering pain was back again. Even aware of the weapon at her back, she remained trying to push forward, toward the path of which her motions suggested, attempting to rid herself of the torment that stung her. Realizing her struggle was futile, she gave up her vain skirmish, giving in to the pain, and pushing it to the back of her mind.  
  
  
  
"Remain where you are." The voice was rigid and deep, though oddly, more comforting than the one that had been echoing in her head. She laughed mutely to herself at the irony of the situation. 'How could she do anything else but remain where she was, with a spear digging into her back, and a quite steady hand grasping her arm?'  
  
  
  
"State your name and business. You are not under the authority of the King to be on Mirkwood grounds." Sighing with relief, Alakdaliel smiled, freely turning to face her captor. She was met with the distressed face of Legolas, though underneath his blue irises, she spotted a tinge of fear. His face too, relaxed when he realized who it was, but was soon followed by deep worry.  
  
  
  
"Alakdaliel! What are you doing out here by yourself? And at this hour? What ails you?" His voice was concerned. At that moment, something triggered at the back of her mind, something that shouted at her with every bit of might it had, something that was not her own.  
  
  
  
"I was simply exploring the grounds of Mirkwood." Why did she feel the need to lie? "I have never seen it at twilight." Though her voice was steady, her eyes betrayed herself. Alakdaliel's mind screamed at her, forcing her to smile.  
  
  
  
"These are dark times, and a Lady should not be without an escort at night. Let me assist you back to your room." Legolas took her arm, and they began their way back toward the palace, though his mind seemed elsewhere.  
  
  
  
"Alakdaliel…about the feast…." Legolas trailed. Suddenly, she realized.  
  
  
  
"Rest at ease, Legolas. The crowd was entertained, was it not? That is all that matters. Think no more of it." She tried to reassure him. He nodded, though still seemed troubled.  
  
  
  
"I would you know, Daren has been released from further duties. His actions were unacceptable, and his…display was unnecessary." Legolas squeezed her hand firmly. Alakdaliel felt her heart skip, though she knew it was her own bodies doing. Uncontrollable fear gripped her. The sound of Daren's name on anyone's tongue pulsed on her eardrums, sending anguished cries of help to her mind. Why did the mere thought of him frighten her so? Swallowing hard, she kept her emotions concealed, her face calm.  
  
  
  
"Oh? Was he not angry?" She asked, waiting for the inevitable.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Most angry indeed. I'd have to say, if I had not my bow and arrow there, I would have feared for my life."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Alright…weird chapter. I know, it will all come clear in the next few chapters. Thanks to all the reviewers! You guys are awesome! The next chapter or the one after it, will include parts from WOT by Robert Jordan. Hopefully it will provide some entertainment. Oh, and not to worry! That meanie Daren will have a LONG and agonizing death…if I get around to killing him! Next chapter soon to come! 


	8. Deceptions and Redemtion

After reviewing some of my writing, I've decided to go into some more depth of my characters in this chapter. Just so we're clear, here are the major ones in this story.  
  
  
  
Alakdaliel- Archwood Princess parents were murdered, taken up residence in Mirkwood, invitation by the king. Soft, yet outspoken at times. Small demeanor, yet fulfilling presence.  
  
Legolas- (I think we all know who he is).  
  
Daren- Royal Guard to the throne of Mirkwood. Highly respected warrior. Known throughout the regions of his skill and stony face. (Until last chapter, that is, where he made a fool of himself.). A/n: Daren is NOT good, if I haven't gotten the point across enough yet. If you can't tell, he's planning a QUITE evil plot.  
  
Chariste- A Mirkwood noble elf. Not especially pretty, but not totally unfortunate. Has befriended the princess. A/n: PLEASE tell me you've noticed her most recent appearance in my last chapter? And let me add, she was following the likes of Daren…can't be too good if you know what I mean. I'll let you decide. (Use your imagination!)  
  
General Rayon- General to the late army of Archwood. Friends with Alakdaliel. Respected though unseemly quiet.  
  
  
  
Any other questions? Just ask!  
  
  
  
* * * *  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Deceptions and Redemption  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Alakdaliel twisted in her seat, trying to see beyond the cloud of bushes that surrounded her. It was a nice afternoon; the warm summer air was cooling off, yet it still held it's radiating heat. Again, the bushes creaked, moving ever so slightly. She now sat on a stone bench, just outside the palace, in the gardens. Squinting her eyes, she searched for the invader.  
  
  
  
"Who's there?" She called, and was answered with a quite muffled elf, protruding out of the greenery; hair mussed, and back slumped. "Chariste! What is wrong?" Throwing herself down beside the Princess, her shoulders slumped.  
  
  
  
"Nothing. I am fine." Her answer was simple, yet it had not hidden the lie behind them.  
  
  
  
"Do not lie to me. I can see it a mile away. Where were you yesterday? I had not seen you after the feast." Alakdaliel's question was simple, but Chariste's eyes were submerged in fear, twitting outwards, looking for an escape.  
  
  
  
"I… I was talking to an old friend." Her reply came out stuttered. "I cannot delay it any longer…" Her voice trailed off.  
  
"Delay what? Chariste, you know you can talk of any matters to me. I have never seen you so upset! What is so urgent?" Alakdaliel could not keep the worry out of her voice, sustaining the offhand way she had been trying to prevail into the conversation.  
  
  
  
"My friend has brought pressing tidings of Archwood." Chariste seemed to cringe at her next statement. "It seems your sister is still alive, and was not killed in the attack." Alakdaliel felt her heart flutter, as if rising out of her chest.  
  
  
  
"How can that be? All remaining survivors were brought to Mirkwood. I do not understand. Surely you were misinformed. Do not toy with my emotions to carelessly." She shook with anger, gripping the stone bench under her till her knuckles grew white.  
  
  
  
"I do no such thing! I speak the truth. You must travel to Archwood to retrieve her. You must." Chariste's tone seemed almost desperate, and her eyes bore into Alakdaliel's.  
  
  
  
"My sister…I thought her lost. If she truly is alive, I cannot leave her there." She said out loud, thought speaking to herself. "I will inform the King at once." She began to stand, but was stopped abruptly by Chariste, who gripped her shoulder tightly, rising to her full height, nearly a foot taller.  
  
  
  
"No. You mustn't. I mean, he would never agree to such an admonition. You must go alone if you wish to reach her successfully. Trust me." Her last words remained in the air, hovering just over Alakdaliel. Embracing her friend, she smiled.  
  
  
  
"You have done me the greatest favor I have ever received. When I come home with my sister, there will be a grand ball, you the guest of honor! I will leave at daybreak tomorrow." Alakdaliel could not stop the glee that was arisen in her, knowing full well the treacherous journey she was being forced to make.  
  
  
  
"Alakdaliel, if one asks where you are going, tell them you are hunting. You have been learning the bow and arrow, have you not?" Chariste hid the underlying tones in her voice.  
  
  
  
"Ah yes! I will. Thank you again, my friend. I do not how I will ever repay you." And with that, she leapt from the gardens, running at full speed to her rooms.  
  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
  
  
  
Alakdaliel had spent the restless night fumbling around in her bed, knowing well that she would not catch an once of sleep. Her bags were packed, and weapons ready. Sitting up in her bed, she stretched her stiff muscles, deprived of the rest they needed. She recalled the many people she had been forced to lie to, but under the circumstances, it was necessary. Still, she could not shake the feeling of deception it had awakened in her. Pulling on a cloak, and braiding her hair, she gained her composure, but just as soon lost it, for at that moment the door crashed open so hard it bounced off the wall. Alakdaliel immediately grabbed her bow, but felt a moment of embarrassment when the rebounding door slapped hard against Legolas's outstretched hand. A moment more and she decided to hold on to her bow a while longer. The Prince filled the doorway with his broad shoulders, his face a thunderhead; if his blue eyes could really have given off the firebolts that they threatened, they would have blasted Alakdaliel.  
  
  
  
Legolas did not appear to see anything but Alakdaliel. "You let me believe you were going hunting for the day." He rasped at her.  
  
  
  
"You may have believed it," She said calmly, "But I never said it."  
  
  
  
"Never said it? Never said it! You spoke of leaving today and always linked your leaving with the forests of Mirkwood, and the good hunting it provided. Always! What did you mean me to think?"  
  
  
  
"But I never said-"  
  
  
  
"By the Valar, Woman!" He roared. It was the first time Alakdaliel had seen him loose his composure. " Do not bandy words with me!" This man had an iron self control, but he was at his breaking point now. Alakdaliel was the one who often let her emotions rage, yet she faced him coolly, head high and eyes serene, hands still on her dark silk cloak.  
  
  
  
Legolas took hold of himself with an obvious effort. He appeared as stone faced as ever, as much in control of himself as ever, and Alakdaliel was sure it was only on the surface. "I'd not have known where you were really off to if I had not heard that you ordered a carriage. To take you to a ship bound for Archwood. I do not know why you are going, but you are not skilled enough. Archwood is no place for anyone except a fully trained warrior now. I'll not let you go into that!"  
  
  
  
"So," Alakdaliel said lightly. "You question my decisions. Perhaps I've misunderstood Prince's all along. I thought you swore to accept, obey, among other things, for your kingdom. I do the same for mine. Legolas, I do understand you concern, and I am grateful-more than grateful- but we all have our own tasks to perform. I am going; you must resign yourself to the fact."  
  
  
  
"Why? For the love of the light, at least tell me why! Archwood!" Legolas trembled- actually trembled! - When he received no answer, he clamped his jaw shut angrily. When he spoke, he was strangely hesitant. "You will need someone to help you at Archwood. Someone to keep an orc from slipping a knife into your back. Archwood is that sort of city last I heard. I could…I could protect you, Alakdaliel." Alakdaliel's eyebrows shot up. He could not be suggesting…he just could not be. She gave no sign that he said anything out of the ordinary.  
  
  
  
"Your place is with Mirkwood." Sweat beaded on the Prince's hard face, and he struggled with the words. "I can…I must…Alakdaliel…I …I…"  
  
  
  
You WILL remain with Mirkwood." Alakdaliel said sharply, "until it releases you from your duties. You will do as I say. Just count yourself lucky I do not tell you to dance for me." She suppressed a grin.  
  
  
  
"Do you not? You dispose of me very neatly." Legolas had a dangerous gleam in his eye, which Alakdaliel didn't seem to notice.  
  
  
  
"You are very full of yourself, Legolas Greenleaf. I do as I must, as will you."  
  
  
  
"Full of myself, Alakdaliel? I am full of myself!" Legolas moved so quickly toward Alakdaliel that he was suddenly at one side of the room and than the other. One moment Alakdaliel was standing there, with just time to gape at the tall elf sweeping toward her; the next her shoes were dangling a foot off the floor and she was being quite thoroughly kissed. At first she kicked his shins and hammered him with her fists and made sounds of frantic, furious protest, but her kicks slowed and stopped, and then she was holding on to his shoulders and not protesting at all. After a while, Legolas set her back on her feet. She swayed a bit as she straightened her dress, and patted her hair.  
  
  
  
"You have no right…" she began in a breathless voice, then stopped to swallow. "I will not be manhandled in that fashion for the whole world to see. I will not!"  
  
  
  
"Not the whole world". He replied. "But if they can see, they can hear as well. You have made a place in my heart where I thought there was no room for anything else. You have made flowers grow where I cultivated dust and stones. Remember this on this journey you insist on making. If you die, I will not survive you long." He gave Alakdaliel one of his rare smiles. If it did not soften his face, at least it made it less hard. "And remember also, I am not always so easily commanded, even by a princess." He made an elegant bow; for a moment she thought he actually meant to kneel and kiss her hand. "As you command." He mummered. "So do I obey." It was difficult to tell whether he meant to be mocking or not.  
  
  
  
As soon as the door closed behind him, Alakdaliel sank onto the edge of her bed as if letting her knees give way at last. She stared at the door with a pensive frown.  
  
  
  
"Poke the meekest dog too often," she quoted. "And he will bite. Not that Legolas is very meek."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
WOT!!! YAY! Praise to Robet Jordan. Thought you guys might get a kick outta it…anyway let me know! REVIEW! 


	9. A Tad of Tea and a Slice of Revenge

Sorry I took so long! Writer's block…anyway, next chapter should be out soon!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A tad of tea and a slice of revenge  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Scarcely a week had passed since Alakdaliel had left Mirkwood, yet the time passed slowly, the forests growing darker, the sun growing colder. The life that she left in her new home was like a dream, and only one thing still troubled her. The longing for her parents never seemed to cease, but grew stronger with each passing day. It burned a whole in her heart, and Alakdaliel feared that it would never stop expanding, for all that would remain would be an empty gap in her chest, deprived of warmth or anything remote similar. Grabbing on to a low hanging branch, she opened her mouth in an uplifting song.  
  
  
  
"While yet I take breath" She sang "I will smile unto thee…"  
  
  
  
Her melodies voice was cut short by the sound of hoofs beating against the barren forest grounds, growing rapidly closer. She looked around; realizing just how dark and dull the surrounding trees had become. Before she had time to think about it, one cloaked rider galloped by, followed closely by another who somehow managed to bend down and take hold of her as he raced past, hauling her onto his horse and slinging her onto his saddle. Her mind spun.  
  
  
  
"Release me at once!" She shrieked. "I command you to put me down!" Receiving no reply, she flung her arms about wildly, attempting to throw herself off the side of the horse to no avail. The man held her tight. "Whom do you think you are?" Her voice rung with fear.  
  
  
  
"Quiet!" He demanded in a gruff voice. She obeyed, and for what seemed like hours, she bounced around on his saddle, her ribs screaming in agony. Finally, he reined his horse to a halt in front of a darkened cave, the first rider dismounting. Flinging her off the horse, he gently followed suit.  
  
  
  
She spun around in rage, reaching her captor with her palm across his cheek. Staggering back, he reached for her. "You will do as I say!" He caught her arm.  
  
  
  
"Don't touch me!" she screamed pulling away as the other rider stepped closer. Grabbing hold of her other arm, the man led her roughly into the cave, shoving her against a jagged wall. Falling to her knees, she looked up to the hooded figure, curiosity overcoming her fear. The few-lighted candles that lined the interior of the cave cast dark shadows that roamed the corridors. His face remained hidden, along with his companion's. Rubbing her bruised arm that she had been freed from his grasp, she glared at him.  
  
  
  
"Who are you?" Alakdaliel's voice was steady. The cloaked man stepped even closer, motioning to the other figure with his hand.  
  
  
  
"I believe we all have already met your acquaintance." Removing his hood, and revealing his face, Alakdaliel let out a strangled cry. Daren's face was pale, his eyes full of venom, and his cheek already blackening from her harsh hand. Narrowing her eyes, she bit her lip.  
  
  
  
"You will pay dearly for this. The King will have your head!" Daren howled with laughter, throwing back his head and stomping his foot. When he turned back towards her, his face still held a smirk.  
  
  
  
"And how do you supposed he will do that?" He again motioned to the other figure and it drawed closer. "Remove your hood." Peering around Daren, Alakdaliel felt her blood rise and boil at the person behind him. Chariste did not meet her eyes, but instead stared at the ground. There were no words to express her outrage and hurt toward the woman. Springing from her spot on the ground, she pounced toward her, but was stopped by a scabrous arm throwing her back down.  
  
  
  
"You will do well in the future to mind your manners" Daren's voice dripped with sarcasm. Focusing her attention back on Chariste, she clenched her fists angrily.  
  
  
  
"What of my sister? I suspect it was another lie! You are full of deceit! I have traveled for days to what I thought could bring normalcy back into my life – something I've longed for- and you were the one to set it up! I befriended you in an instant, and yet the whole time you were planning my capture!" Alakdaliel was out of breath when she finished, trying to regain her composure. Chariste had stood in the mean while; staring at her, glazed eyes and shallow breath. She seemed not to care. Crossing her arms, Alakdaliel resigned herself to the cave.  
  
  
  
"She cannot be trusted. We have matters to discuss." Daren said icily to his counterpart. Before she could see what was coming, Alakdaliel was met with a heavy foot on the side of her head, and than blackness.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Review! 


	10. As Hope's Dim Light Fades

I'm sorry I took so long with this! Life's been hectic. Anyway, if all goes well, I should be continuing this story at a quicker pace. As you know, I'm a huge fan of wot, therefor this chapter I have combined tid bits of it. Two favorite stories!! YAY!! Go Jordan!! Read on!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
As Hope's Dim Light Fades  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Opening her eyes to blurred vision, and utter darkness, Alakdaliel drew a shallow breath, aware only of the severe pain that racked through her body and the agony of a dull headache somewhere in the distance. Her ribs creaked against what appeared to be a wooden floor, her cheek glad to feel something other than the cool granite that she had become accustomed to against her throbbing face.  
  
The room was dim, not a window gave way to light, the gloom leaving no sign of night or day, hour or minute. Alakdaliel felt a wave of relief sweep through her, her tense muscles relaxing as she realized she was no longer within the cave. Her captors must have moved her, but it mattered not, as long as the cave lay far behind in their wake. She shivered at the thought of the darkness that had nearly killed her. For what seemed like days, perhaps even weeks, Alakdaliel had fought back the urges to sob- though to no avail- within the confinements of the rock that held her. Daren had visited her occasionally, ordering Chariste about, though never revealing his future plans. A wrong comment or a sharp tongue was received with a kick to the mouth, a club to the arm, or a slap on the cheek. Though Alakdaliel took them with stride, gracefully shooting insults, fully aware of the consequences, but taking much delight in the fallen faces of her captors.  
  
A lurch from the ground broke Alakdaliel's train of thought. The floor was moving! Feeling her way to a door, she twisted the handle, shocked to find it unlocked. Hope blossomed within her quickly, and she shoved the door open, squinting at the blinding light. Realizing just where she was, she threw a hand over her mouth to halt the gasp that already had begun to form.  
  
She had been brought to a ship! No landmass lay in sight, logic telling her they were far out at sea. With Chariste and Daren out of sight, she slowly began to wander, aimlessly searching for a way out. Her hands remained above her eyes, shielding her from the light.  
  
The boat lurched. Still no sign of any passengers, Alakdaliel told her self it was a nice refreshing boat ride, all too familiar with the sea sickness that had already begun to plague her. Nice cool breezes caressing her cheeks. Moist breezes not dry. The boat rolled.  
  
  
  
"Oh, by the Valar!" She moaned. Suddenly, she felt waves of pressure among her in huge amounts and..  
  
  
  
...She floundered in salty water over her head, flailing upward to find air, tangled in her skirts. Her head broke surface, and she gasped for breath, amid floating boxes, staring in astonishment. After a moment, she recognized the slanting shape above her as the cabin she had awoken in. She was inside a trapped pocket of air. Not large; she could have touched both sides without stretching her arms out fully. But how..? An audible thud announced the bottom of the sea; the upside down cabin lurched, tilted. She thought the air pocket shrank a little.  
  
  
  
The first order of business, before wondering about anything was getting out before she used up the air. She knew how to swim- she had splashed in the Archwood ponds often enough back home as a child-it was just when the water started rocking her about she minded. Filling her lungs, she doubled over and swam down toward where the door must be, kicking awkwardly because of her skirts. It might help to shed the dress, but she was not about to bob to the surface in nothing but shift and stockings. And, she was not about to leave those behind, either.  
  
  
  
  
  
The water was black, lightness. Her outstretched fingers struck wood, and she felt across the piecework carving until she found the door, scrabbled down the edge of that, and found a hinge. Muttering imprecation in her head, she cautiously felt her way to the other side. Yes! The latch handle! She lifted it, pushed outward. The door moved maybe two inches and stopped.  
  
  
  
Lungs straining, she swam back up to the pocket, but only long enough to fill them again. This time finding the door came faster. She stuck her fingers through the crack to find what held the door shut. They sank into mud. Maybe she could dig away a little hillock or..She felt higher. More mud. Increasingly frantic, she worked her fingers from the bottom of the crack to the top, and then, refusing to believe, from the top to the bottom. Mud, solid, gooey, mud, all the way.  
  
  
  
  
  
This time when she swam back up to the pocket, she grabbed hold of the edge of the seat above her and hung from it, panting, heart beating wildly. The air felt..thicker.  
  
  
  
"I will not die here." She muttered. "I will not die here!".  
  
  
  
She hammered a fist against the seat until she felt it bruise, no longer able to fight the anger that would surely overwhelm here. The anger that she had tried desperately to subdue since the revelation that her sister was, in fact, dead. The anger that she had not dealt with knowing that the lies Chariste had fed her were just that. Lies. Her sister had long since been dead. And here she sat, kidnapped at the bottom of the sea.  
  
  
  
She would not die. Not here. Alone. No one would know where she had died. No grave, just a corpse rotting in the mud. Her arm fell with a splash. She labored for breath. Flecks of black and silver danced in her eyes; she seemed to be looking down a tube. No anger, she realized dimly. No hope. No Archwood. No Mirkwood. No family. No Legolas. And with hope gone, flickering on the edge of consciousness like a guttering candle flame, she did something she had never done before in her life. She relaxed completely, feeling her body slide down lower into the rocking water.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
What did you think? Let me know! Review! 


	11. Bitter Sweet

Thanks for all your wonderful reviews! Much is Jordan', so give credit where it is due! PLEASE review!!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Bitter Sweet  
  
  
  
  
  
Alakdaliel was only half-aware of the wood above her suddenly bulging outward, bursting. In rushing bubbles of air, she drifted up, out through the hole in the hull into darkness. Vaguely, she knew she should do something. She could almost remember what. Yes. Her feet kicked weakly; she tried to move her arms to swim. The seemed just to float.  
  
  
  
Something seized her dress, and panic roused her in thoughts of sharks and lionfish, and the valar alone knew what else might inhabit these black depths. She flailed desperately with fists and feet, felt her knuckles land solidly. Unfortunately, she also screamed, or tried to. A great quantity of water rushing down her throat washed away the sound, and very nearly her final scraps of awareness.  
  
  
  
Something tugged on her hair, then again, and she was being towed..somewhere. She was no longer conscious enough to struggle, or even to be very much afraid of being eaten. Abruptly her head broke surface. Hands encircled her from behind--hands; not a shark, after all--squeezed hard against her ribs. She coughed-water spewed from her nose-coughed again, painfully, and drew a shuddering breath. She had never tasted anything so sweet in her life.  
  
  
  
A hand cupped her chin, and suddenly she was being towed again. Lassitude washed through her. All she could do was float on her back, and breathe, and stare up at the sky. So blue. So beautiful. The stinging in her eyes was not at all from the salty water.  
  
  
  
And then she was being pushed upward against the side of a boat, a rude hand beneath her bottom shoving her higher, until two lanky fellows with brass rings in their ears could reach down and haul her aboard. They helped her walk a step or two, but as soon as they let go to help her rescuer, her legs collapsed like towers of soggy mush.  
  
  
  
On unsteady hands and knees, she stared blankly at the bow and boots and green tunic someone had thrown down on the deck. She opened her mouth-and emptied herself of what appeared to be the majority of the ocean. The entire ocean, it seemed. It would not have surprised her at all to see a few fish, or her slippers. She was wiping her lips with the back of her hand when she became aware of voices.  
  
  
  
"My Lord is all right? My Lord was down for a very long time."  
  
  
  
"Forget me, man," said a commanding voice, oddly familiar. "Get something to wrap around the lady." Legolas's voice could not be mistaken.  
  
  
  
  
  
Wide eyed, Alakdaliel barely bit back a wail; the horror she had felt when she thought she was going to die was nothing alongside what flashed through her now. Nothing! This was a nightmare, Not now! Not like this! Not when she was a drowned rat, kneeling with the contents of the ocean spread out before her, bruised and battered.  
  
  
  
Scrambling to her feet, she did the best to straighten her dress and hair. Taking a deep breath she cleared her mind. Her dress did not matter, nor her hair. She was calmness itself, cool as an early spring breeze, self possessed as..she spun around before he could cone on her from behind and startle her into disgracing herself completely.  
  
  
  
She only realized how quickly she had moved when she saw that Legolas was just than taking his second step from the railing. He was the most beautiful elf she had every seen. Soaking wet in shirt and breeches, he was gorgeous, and his dripping hair clinging to the angles of his face, and.A split purple bruise was rising on his face, as from a blow. She clapped a hand to her mouth, remember her first connecting.  
  
  
  
"Oh no! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!" She was not really aware of crossing the space between them; she was just there, stretching up on toe tips to lay fingers gently on his injury. She could not stop touching him. Both hands traced his hard cheeks, his wonderful blue eyes, his strong nose, his firm lips, his pointed ears. She combed his silky hair into place with her fingers, adjusted the braided strands in the front. Her tongue seemed to have a life of its own.  
  
  
  
"Oh, Legolas!" She murmured. "You really are here!" Somebody giggled. Not her, Alakdaliel did not giggle, but somebody did. "It isn't a dream. Oh, Valar! You're here! How?"  
  
  
  
"A merchant at the palace a few days ago mentioned an arrival of a two woman, and a man. One unconscious, which I now presume, was you. He described you quite clearly. I do not know how you have managed to come to this situation, but I have not doubt you will explain fully.."  
  
  
  
"I don't care now. You're here now. You're here. I thought I was going to die! Just moments ago.you're here!" She did not giggle.  
  
  
  
"Maybe she is a princess," one of the boatmen murmured, not quite low enough, "but I still say she's one duckling who means to stuff herself in that wolfs jaws."  
  
  
  
Alakdaliel flashed pure scarlet, and she snatched her hands to her sides, her heels thumping to the deck. Another time she would have given the fellow a lesson or two, and no mistake. Another time, when she could think. Legolas crowded everything out of her head. She seized his arm. "We can talk more privately in the cabin." Had one of the boatmen snickered?  
  
  
  
"My bow and"-  
  
  
  
"I'll bring it." She said, snatching up the things while hustling Legolas inside and slamming the door. Alone at last, her hands went back to his face, only to straighten his hair once more, and he caught her wrists gently in his big hands.  
  
  
  
  
  
"My father has arranged my marriage." He said quietly. "I am betrothed."  
  
  
  
  
  
Calmly pulling her right hand free, she slapped his face as hard as she could swing. His head hardly moved, so she freed the other hand and slapped him harder with that.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
How do you like it??? REVIEW! 


	12. To Mordor and Back

If you guys are confused at all, let me know!! I would rather answer your questions than you remaining clueless!! Hope you like this chapter!  
  
  
  
  
  
To Mordor and Back  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Alakdaliel's mind spun. Her sister was, in fact, dead. She had been betrayed and further more kidnapped by her supposedly loyal friend, Chariste, beaten nearly to death by one of Milkwood's Captain, and now this. Legolas was betrothed. The statement sounded odd in her mind. It did not belong.  
  
  
  
"How could you?" Was her only response, though she punctuated the question with another slap. One more seemed called for, just to drive the point home. "How could you do such a thing? How could you let your father?" Another slap. "Damn you! Damn you, Legolas Greenleaf! Damn you to the pits of Mordor and back!"  
  
  
  
The man-- The bloody man! -- Did not say one word. Not that he could, of course; what defense could he offer? He just stood there while she rained blows at him, making no move, unblinking eyes looking peculiar, as well they might with the way she reddened his cheeks for him. If her slaps made little impression on him, though, the palms of her hands began to sting like fury. Grimly, she clenched a fist and punched him in the belly with all her might. He grunted slightly.  
  
  
  
"We will talk this over calmly and rationally." She said, stepping back from him. "As adults." Legolas just nodded and sat down and pulled his boots over to him. Pushing back bits of hair out of her face with her left hand, she stuck the right behind her so she could flex her sore fingers without him seeing. He had no right being that hard, not when she wanted to hit him. Too much to hope she had cracked a rib in him.  
  
  
  
"You should thank my father, Alakdaliel." How could the elf sound so calm! Stamping his foot firmly into one boot, he bent to pick up the other, not looking at her. "You wouldn't want me betrothed to you."  
  
  
  
"If you dare, if you even dare, to spout that drivel about not wanting to give me a widow's weeds, Legolas Greenleaf, I'll.. I'll.." She could not think of anything strong enough. Kicking him was not near enough.  
  
  
  
He just rested his forearms across his knees, and watched her with that odd look in his eyes, and said, "I thought about not telling you, but you have a right to know." Even so, his tone became hesitant; Legolas was never hesitant. "The ceremony is approaching quickly. I spare you the life of the distant tyranny that is a Queen's. You do not know the horror that shook through me when that merchant told me you were here, with the Captain and Chariste. My assumptions have obviously proved correct. You almost have more cuts and bruises than I have acquired in my lifetime! Almost. Those two will pay dearly, you have my word on that. The guard is a few leagues behind me, their ship, I'm sure is visible even from our decks. That is how I saw your previous ferry erupt.something I am still astounded by. I pray your two captors are still alive, for I will take much delight in their flaying." He was filled with rage, though his statement was that of a quiet whisper.  
  
  
  
Suddenly she understood his eyes, colder than winter's heart. The eyes of an elf that knew he was doomed to live a life of court and could not make himself care. Her own eyes stung with not weeping.  
  
  
  
"So you see," He concluded with a smile that touched only his mouth; an accepting smile, "when the time comes to pass in which I take up the crown, you will be grateful you do not have to share that life with me. You are spared that. My last gift to you, Mashiara." Mashiara. His lost love.  
  
  
  
"I assume you are to be wedded as soon as the leaves change color, and you wish me to find a more suitable husband." Her voice startled her with its levelness. She could not break down in tears now. She would not. Now, more than ever, more than in the caves of her captors, she had to gather all her strength.  
  
  
  
"Yes," he said cautiously, tugging on his other boot.  
  
  
  
"Good." Adjusting her skirts, she resisted the urge to cross the cabin to him. "Because I have found him. You. Don't say anything." She said sharply when he opened her mouth. With an effort she moderated her tone. She wanted to berate him up one side and down the other, wanted to pull her hair out by the roots every time she thought about him and that woman. Fighting to keep her voice calm, she continued, recalling a ring of daises Legolas had made her after their infamous archery lessons.  
  
  
  
"In Archwood, Legolas, when somebody gives another a ring, they are betrothed." That was a lie and she half expected him to jump to his feet in outrage, but he only blinked warily. Besides, she had read about the notion in a story. "We have been betrothed long enough, we are to get married.  
  
  
  
"I used to pray for that, ever since you arrived at Mirkwood, my life has been nothing but joy, and with you gone, I've realized it more than ever," he said softly, then shook his head. "You know it cannot be, Alakdaliel. And even if it could, you'd be giving up so much. Mercillea, My betrothed-  
  
  
  
Despite all her promises to keep her temper, to be gentle, she quickly placed her hand over his mouth, smothering his words. "A small lesson for you in the difference between wives and other women," she said lightly. I would appreciate it very much if you did not mention Mercillea's name again in my presence, do you understand?"  
  
  
  
He nodded, and she removed her hand from his mouth, but as soon as soon as he had worked his jaw a moment he said, "I do wish it could be, Alakdaliel, but-  
  
  
  
"It can and will," She broke in. Males always seemed to get the upper hand if you let them talk too long. She sat herself down on his knees. They were not married yet, true, but he was softer than the unpadded benches on this boat. She shifted a bit to make herself more comfortable. "You might as well reconcile yourself, Legolas Greenleaf. My heart belongs to you, and you've admitted yours belongs to me. You belong to me and I will not let you go. You will be my husband, and for a very long time. I will not let you go. Do you understand that? I can be as stubborn as I have to be."  
  
  
  
"I hadn't noticed," He said his eyes narrowed. His tone sounded awfully dry.  
  
  
  
"As long as you do now," She said firmly. Twisting her neck she peered through the piecework in the hull behind him, then craned around to peer through the carving at the front of the cabin. Long stone docks thrusting out from the stone quay passed by; all she could see ahead were more docks, and the sand gleaming white in the afternoon sun.  
  
  
  
"Where are we going?" She muttered.  
  
  
  
"I told them to put us ashore as soon as I had you aboard," Legolas said. "It seemed best to get off the water as fast as possible. Were headed back to Mirkwood, where you should have stayed from the start. Though, my father's in for a nasty shock when we arrive back. I don't think he is anticipating this." He pointed between the two of them. Alakdaliel shook her head, trying not to think about the obstacles that they would face ahead, The King of Mirkwood, only a part of it.  
  
  
  
"What about my ship?" She was terribly confused.  
  
  
  
"Alakdaliel, I was right behind your boat. I saw what happened. You were fifty paces ahead of me, and then fifty paces behind, sinking. It had to be the workings of magic. It seems there is more to Daren than meets the eye."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
So how do you like it?!! REVIEW! 


	13. A Way Out

Authors note: Before you read, I would like to let you all know I've begun posting a new story on here. (One I am having a TREMENDOUS time writing.) If you like this story, I guarantee you will enjoy my other, called FATED. I've just started, but I think it will prove to be entertaining, to say the least. Anyway, read on! (*Please note: This is by far one of the shortest chapters I've ever written, but it's a "transition" lit of a chapter so the next can start at a fast pace. Thanks!)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A Way Out  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
She was an idiot. She just could not keep her mouth shut, and look where it had gotten her. Blurting her feelings out like they really mattered! And taking command like she owned him! Alakdaliel placed two fingers on each side of her head, gently massaging her temples. She was a fool. What kind of Princess looses every sane thought in their mind just because a dashing, handsome, wonderful, perfect, Prince comes along and saves her from captors? All right, perhaps Alakdaliel could see some reason as to why she lost her wits when Legolas had brought her up from the sea. After all that wishing and dreaming that he would be there, it was no wonder she had almost fallen to her knees and kissed his hand.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Yes, she certainly was a fool. He had come to help a maiden in distress, not to find a new bride- not to mention the one he had back home! - Alakdaliel could not keep the heat from rising to her cheeks, rapidly spreading up her pointed ears. A way out. She needed to give the Prince a way out. She had given him no chance to voice his feelings. What had possessed her! Alakdaliel nearly flung her hands up in frustration. She had no right to be that outgoing. No right! Though Legolas had admitted she held a piece of his heart back in Mirkwood before this blasted journey began, he mentioned not one word of marrying! She was only glad the Prince was traveling on his horse so he could not see her reddened face, the shame clearly visible.  
  
  
  
  
  
Groaning she leaned her head back onto the carriage walls. Alakdaliel was glad-more than glad- to get off the sea, but the carriage ride didn't seem much better. The bumps of the uneven road were just as jolting as the waves of the water. Gripping the side of the door she felt the urge to heave, the very thought of her misfortune pushing in on her mind. 'If only Daren were here, Blast him! He could finish her off!' Look at her! Even now she could not stop thinking of herself! Self-pity was disgusting, and she would not let it consume her. She would not!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A way out.  
  
  
  
  
  
Alakdaliel would not force the prince into this arrangement.  
  
  
  
  
  
A way out.  
  
  
  
  
  
She could not go against the king's wishes.  
  
  
  
  
  
A way out.  
  
  
  
  
  
She could not push Legolas's betrothed out of Mirkwood, alone and unmarried.  
  
  
  
  
  
A way out.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
She would make him hate her.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Please reivew! 


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